Crossing Elderslie Street, framed in flowers, February Sky

He strides, diesel-grey booted,heavy-workcoat-suited,snuggly fitting jeans,the blue-eyed boy. His face, half-serious, half-whimsical, takes it all in, half-loves, half-hates it all:detritus in the street back passages, and yesall of that human dirt. He’s ageless puckishdaydreaming about how he might frame the scenebetween the pages of his unruled Moleskinejournal.  He spreads his fingersmagpie’s wingtipscounting syllablesbeats to a bar oritems on a to-do... Continue Reading →

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